breathed.
Chief Warrant Officer Fitzsimmons jerked his head at the goblin again. “Get out of here,” he growled. The creature sighed and got to its feet, resignation on its face, and departed.
“He seemed to understand that much,” Bookbinder said.
“Oh, they’ve got a lot more English than they let on, sir,” Fitzsimmons said. “But I wasn’t kidding that they can’t be trusted. The Embracers embrace us insofar as it gets ’em inside the wire to spot for indirect or steal guns and ammo. Begging your pardon for speaking freely, sir.” He addressed the last to Crucible.
“Chief Warrant Officer Fitzsimmons heads up one of our most important programs here on the FOB,” Crucible said.
“It’s one of the J1’s biggest responsibilities here, as Congress has to approve the special appropriation that funds it on a month–to–month basis. We’re constantly fighting to keep it running, and we think it’s critical that it continue.”
Bookbinder’s head spun. “Can I sit down for a second?”
Fitzsimmons gestured to the chair he’d just vacated and moved to the wall, arms folded across his substantial chest. Bookbinder slumped in the chair, rubbing his head.
“Let me get this straight. I’m in an alternate dimension. I just saw a goblin, a real and literal goblin, working in my new office. I am now in charge of a program so important and controversial that it is going to go from my desk straight to a congressional appropriations committee on a monthly basis?”
“Senatorial committee, sir,” Crucible said. “But otherwise, that’s pretty much on target.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m somewhat overwhelmed.”
Crucible smiled. “That’s a common reaction when folks first arrive here, sir.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Fitzsimmons said. “This is the most critical program we’ve got running here, and I can’t stress enough how important it is that our new J1 continue to support it.”
“I hear and appreciate your concern, chief,” Bookbinder said.
“I’ll do my job. Beyond that, the program is going to have to stand on its own.”
Fitzsimmons’s jaw clenched, and he looked as if he would say more. Bookbinder tried to hold his gaze but ultimately failed, looking around the room.
“All right,” Bookbinder said, as Carmela arrived with the coffee. “I’ve got my coffee now, so you may as well give me a tour and show me this superimportant program.”
“You don’t want to grab a shower first, sir? Some rack time?”
Crucible sounded concerned. Fitzsimmons moved toward the door immediately.
Bookbinder sighed. “Fresh as a daisy, Colonel. No point in putting off the inevitable. Maybe you can explain how I get in touch with my family while we walk?”
Crucible looked at his feet. Fitzsimmons cut in. “There’s a mandatory weeklong comms blackout for all new arrivals, sir.”
Bookbinder’s stomach turned over. He felt his magical tide surge and interlace with both Crucible’s and Fitzsimmons’s flows, tugging at them, reeling their currents toward him.
Fitzsimmons frowned at the intersection, leaning toward him. “You all right, sir? You need me to Suppress you?”
“You tell me,” Bookbinder said. “Nobody seems to know what the hell is going on with my magic other than it’s super, critically important to prevent me from talking to my own damned wife and kids.”
“I know it’s stressful, sir,” Crucible said. “But trust me, the SOC is used to handling sudden separations like this. I can assure you we have counselors on the Home Plane making sure that your wife and children know you’re safe, and answering as many of their questions as they can.”
“You got any children, Crucible?” Bookbinder asked.
Crucible paused. “One, sir, a boy.”
“And do you honestly think it’d be enough for your son to talk to a counselor when he didn’t know where his father was?”
Crucible and Fitzsimmons were both silent. Bookbinder instantly regretted the
Chief Warrant Officer Fitzsimmons jerked his head at the goblin again. “Get out of here,” he growled. The creature sighed and got to its feet, resignation on its face, and departed.
“He seemed to understand that much,” Bookbinder said.
“Oh, they’ve got a lot more English than they let on, sir,” Fitzsimmons said. “But I wasn’t kidding that they can’t be trusted. The Embracers embrace us insofar as it gets ’em inside the wire to spot for indirect or steal guns and ammo. Begging your pardon for speaking freely, sir.” He addressed the last to Crucible.
“Chief Warrant Officer Fitzsimmons heads up one of our most important programs here on the FOB,” Crucible said.
“It’s one of the J1’s biggest responsibilities here, as Congress has to approve the special appropriation that funds it on a month–to–month basis. We’re constantly fighting to keep it running, and we think it’s critical that it continue.”
Bookbinder’s head spun. “Can I sit down for a second?”
Fitzsimmons gestured to the chair he’d just vacated and moved to the wall, arms folded across his substantial chest. Bookbinder slumped in the chair, rubbing his head.
“Let me get this straight. I’m in an alternate dimension. I just saw a goblin, a real and literal goblin, working in my new office. I am now in charge of a program so important and controversial that it is going to go from my desk straight to a congressional appropriations committee on a monthly basis?”
“Senatorial committee, sir,” Crucible said. “But otherwise, that’s pretty much on target.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m somewhat overwhelmed.”
Crucible smiled. “That’s a common reaction when folks first arrive here, sir.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Fitzsimmons said. “This is the most critical program we’ve got running here, and I can’t stress enough how important it is that our new J1 continue to support it.”
“I hear and appreciate your concern, chief,” Bookbinder said.
“I’ll do my job. Beyond that, the program is going to have to stand on its own.”
Fitzsimmons’s jaw clenched, and he looked as if he would say more. Bookbinder tried to hold his gaze but ultimately failed, looking around the room.
“All right,” Bookbinder said, as Carmela arrived with the coffee. “I’ve got my coffee now, so you may as well give me a tour and show me this superimportant program.”
“You don’t want to grab a shower first, sir? Some rack time?”
Crucible sounded concerned. Fitzsimmons moved toward the door immediately.
Bookbinder sighed. “Fresh as a daisy, Colonel. No point in putting off the inevitable. Maybe you can explain how I get in touch with my family while we walk?”
Crucible looked at his feet. Fitzsimmons cut in. “There’s a mandatory weeklong comms blackout for all new arrivals, sir.”
Bookbinder’s stomach turned over. He felt his magical tide surge and interlace with both Crucible’s and Fitzsimmons’s flows, tugging at them, reeling their currents toward him.
Fitzsimmons frowned at the intersection, leaning toward him. “You all right, sir? You need me to Suppress you?”
“You tell me,” Bookbinder said. “Nobody seems to know what the hell is going on with my magic other than it’s super, critically important to prevent me from talking to my own damned wife and kids.”
“I know it’s stressful, sir,” Crucible said. “But trust me, the SOC is used to handling sudden separations like this. I can assure you we have counselors on the Home Plane making sure that your wife and children know you’re safe, and answering as many of their questions as they can.”
“You got any children, Crucible?” Bookbinder asked.
Crucible paused. “One, sir, a boy.”
“And do you honestly think it’d be enough for your son to talk to a counselor when he didn’t know where his father was?”
Crucible and Fitzsimmons were both silent. Bookbinder instantly regretted the
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